


From Afield

by yashkonu



Category: RWBY
Genre: Multi, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:50:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4750346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yashkonu/pseuds/yashkonu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After ten years apart, team RWBY is whole once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chamomile and Spearmint

"That should keep you guys going for the week, at least. Tell Shelly I said hi, okay?"

Smiles and farewells exchanged, the door swung shut with a soft jingle and Blake was alone once more. Weekday afternoons at the food share were always quiet, but on days like this one quiet didn't always cut it. It wasn't as though they really _needed_ to be here in the first place. There were certainly enough other tasks that needed doing, and Velvet always had more than enough on her plate. She preferred the administrative end of running the movement they had co-founded, for which Blake was immensely grateful. As they put it, Blake had a 'severe bureaucracy allergy' that left them unfit for such duties. Still, help was steadily rolling in every day, thanks to their combined efforts; more and more faunus looking to trade a mask and a gun for a T-shirt and picket sign.

When it came down to it, Blake was here because they enjoyed the work. Manning a food share was a far cry from what they had envisioned for their life, but... the difference they made was tangible, here. There was no abstraction in stocking the food Velvet and Sun managed to acquire, no layers of separation between the work they did and the children they were keeping fed, the families they were keeping off the street. It felt real.

Sometimes, though, when things got hectic and that old, familiar anxiety reared its head, Blake wondered if maybe they shouldn't have just stuck to killing Grimm. They were never left wondering long. She had left, left her team, her lovers, with nothing more than a hasty note taped to the door of their shared apartment. Blake _knew_ her reasons were good, and they _knew_ they would very likely have done the same, had the White Fang come after them seeking blood, but the parting still burned. Ten years gone, and still it sat festering in their gut, an infection that time only seemed to sensitize. Every year when the day came around Blake found themself wondering if they could have -- _should_ have done something. Maybe they could have beaten time to the punch, taken out the old bastard themself and

_she never would have had to leave_

but they knew that would have only made things worse. Besides, she would never have forgiven them for it. Somehow, though Blake never understood it -- there was a lot about family Blake wasn't sure they'd ever truly understand -- she loved him, even as she hated him.

And now she was lost to Blake, to Ruby, to Yang. Lost for good, if she was even alive. Blake wasn't sure which possibility hurt more. Sometimes, on anniversaries like today, they could almost smell her, even as time faded the memory. Chamomile and spearmint, rolled together with that unique fingerprint of scent that made it all _her_ , unmistakable. Spearmint and chamomile, even at the end of a weeks-long hunt, even when Grimm blood soaked her clothes; at her best and at her worst, they never quite left.

Then the door chimed gently, and Blake's musings fled; there would be time to mourn later.

_Chamomile and spearmint_

_and Weiss_

Blake couldn't stop the way their smile faltered and their breath hitched at the agonizingly familiar scent, just like they couldn't keep the sorrow from their eyes when it wasn't her standing in the doorway. The woman at the door was nothing like Weiss. Her stance was hunched and tired, her walk trepidatious. Nothing like the air of untouchable confidence and purpose that had been so natural to Blake's lover, all those years ago. She wore a simple, weathered-looking hoody and jeans, the kind of outfit Weiss wouldn't be caught dead in. Her hair was cropped into a rough pixie cut, black as pitch. Weiss's hair had always reminded Blake of silk, the way the long tresses flowed like liquid through their fingers. And yet... she smelled so much like her, it was all they could do to keep themself from fleeing the room. And those eyes... the same frosty blue that had met theirs with love and longing so many times in the past. It couldn't be her, couldn't be, and yet... _fuck,_ they wanted so badly for it to be her.

Blake shoved the thoughts aside. They had a job to do, after all, and whoever this ghost of their past was, she looked half-starved.

"Hello, miss. What can I help you wi-"

"Hello, Blake."

Had Blake's life been a story, they would have found the way those words -- _that voice, they thought they'd never hear it again --_ sent ice shooting through their veins nicely ironic. Amber eyes scoured the woman's face, looking for... something, though Blake wasn't even certain what. It _couldn't_ be her, couldn't be because -- because they had already (given up) accepted that she was gone, that they would never see her face again.

Their voice, when it came, came in a whisper hoarse with longing, with need, with hope long buried and newly unearthed.

" _Weiss?"_

_Spearmint and chamomile_

and Blake was over the counter, across the room like the years apart had never taken their toll, and in her arms, like they thought they'd never be again. The harsh lessons of Blake's youth had never quite left them, and they shook silently as a decade worth of unshed tears stained Weiss's shoulder. They gripped her tight through the fabric, as though she might vanish if they let go, even for an instant. Gentle hands wrapped around them, drawing familiar circles on their shoulders as Weiss cooed soft comforts.

When they could breathe again they pulled away -- a bit, just enough to meet her eyes -- and ran a dark-skinned hand along her pale cheek, over familiar scars crisscrossed with new ones. Blake's lover, teammate, and friend smiled, and they felt the weight of years apart begin to fall away.

"I'm back, love."


	2. Chamomile and Spearmint, Part 2

The cafe Blake had suggested was small, faunus-run (naturally) and nearly empty -- Weiss noted that the combination was ideal for avoiding any unwelcome acquaintances from her old life. A sandwich and a cup of hot soup brought a bit of color back to Weiss's pale cheeks, and a steaming cup of tea made her feel human again. How long had it been since her last one? Too long, whatever the case may be. Years running from city to city, kingdom to kingdom, even beyond their borders entirely when things were at their worst, had left little room for simple comforts such as this.

"You know you don't have to explain yourself to me, right Weiss?"

Across the table, Blake sat with their own cup, one hand resting gently upon her own. They had hardly broken physical contact since meeting her again, and Weiss understood why. Blake had always been the most physically affectionate of her partners, more so even than Yang, though the two certainly had different ideas of what 'physical affection' meant. For Blake it was lingering touches, hours passed with their body leaning gently into Weiss's, just her -- _their_ presence, their touch, for the whole of an evening.

 _They,_ Weiss reminded herself. She really had missed a lot.

"I know I don't _have_ to, Blake, but I feel like you deserve to know what happened. My side of it, I mean."

They hummed, a vaguely inquisitive _mmmmm_ that meant they didn't necessarily agree, but were willing to go along with things anyway. Dust, she had missed them. Something as simple as a murmur probably shouldn't have been so achingly nostalgic, but with it came memories of all Blake's little sounds, used in lieu of words for anyone who knew them well enough to understand. They were a show of affection, in Blake's roundabout way.

"After the press conference we held together," and the score of increasingly tense interviews that had followed, "where we went public with our relationship, and openly opposed my father's policies, he decided disowning me wasn't enough. He put 100,000 lien on my head, dead or alive. From what I know, he added another hundred thousand every year. When you all got dragged into it..."

Dark memories leapt unbidden to her mind. Struggling to hoist a limp and bloodied Yang with her remaining good arm, hoping the strike she had dealt would keep the would-be assassin down long enough for them to escape, to find an antidote before Yang succumbed. Blake and Ruby, beaten and strapped to chairs behind a wall of masked men offering her girlfriends' lives for her own -- for a moment, anyway. Blake had quite a bit of experience with escaping bonds, and Ruby, even unarmed, was a wrecking ball when pressed. Had it just been her on the chopping block, maybe she could have lived with it. Not her team, though. Never her team.

"I couldn't stay, not if it meant risking all of your lives."

"And if you had told us you planned to leave, Yang and Ruby would have done anything to stop you." Their lips quirked in a grin, just for a moment.

"Exactly. When my father... died, last month, Winter inherited the business in my stead. She canceled the bounties, called off the assassins... and got a message to me, telling me it was safe to come back."

Blake _hmm_ ed in understanding, taking a moment to collect their thoughts before they spoke. "It hurt, bad, when you left, and I'd be lying through my teeth if I said it ever stopped. Even so... I probably would have done the same, had the White Fang been the ones to come knocking. You should know I'm not angry with you, Weiss." Blake's grip on her hand tightened, ever so slightly. "Have you been to see Ruby or Yang yet?"

"Not yet, no. I... figured you would take the news best."

Another twitch of a grin. "You're probably right." Blake sighed, a bit regretfully. "As loath as I am to let you go... you should find them. Ruby especially, she -- she never really got over losing you. None of us did, but... For Ruby I think it hurts like it was yesterday. Tonight's going to be really hard for her." Tonight? Weiss's brow furrowed as she tried to decipher her lover's words. "You were gone for ten years, Weiss. Ten years _tonight._ I... don't know how well Ruby's going to handle it. She's been teaching combat classes at Beacon for the last couple years, doing solo hunts when she has time. Every anniversary she stays the night in the Emerald Forest outside Beacon."

"...Where we first met."

"Exactly. Go find her, Weiss. We all need you back, but..." Blake's grip tensed for a moment, then relaxed, and their hand slid off hers. "Right now Ruby needs you most. I love her just as much as you do, so... I'll take a rain check on our catching up." Their smile turned sad; Weiss could see the flicker of doubt in letting go.

"... I'll go find her, Blake. I... see you tomorrow?" Their worry evaporated at the assurance, replaced by tentative mirth.

"I'm holding you to that. Do you have a scroll?"

"Not for a few years now, no."

"Take mine." They pressed the device into her hand, letting the touch linger for a moment before slipping away again. "I'll be able to reach you, and Ruby and Yang's numbers are in there if you need help finding them. If you need me, call Velvet's number. She'll be able to get hold of me." Weiss nodded and checked the time.

" _Damn_... I need to get moving if I'm going to make the last flight out to Beacon. Goodb-" No. Not this time. "See you tomorrow, Blake."

They smiled at her, smiled with a love she had yearned for all those years apart, and it was enough to make Weiss believe, for a moment, that things could become as good as they had once been.

"See you tomorrow, Weiss."


	3. Unfamiliar Scars

This far from Beacon, the dense forest blotted out nearly all light but that of the stars and moon, falling faintly to cast the undergrowth in dappled shades of blue and green and black. In the dim light, even the brash red of Ruby's lightly fluttering cloak was lost, drained to pale grey. Every year, without exception, she made this trek. Out of the campus, across the open fields, and into the Emerald Forest, to find the place she met the love now lost to her. She wasn't sure if it actually helped or not; she had never let herself think too deeply on it. It was simply what she did, and did alone.

When the nature of team RWBY's relationship had become public knowledge, they had all been bombarded with questions which, to Ruby, seemed almost nonsensical. 'How can you love more than one person at a time?' was a particular oddity to her. She loved Yang -- though not in the romantic sense -- as her sister, as her protector, and as a well of vitality they all drew deep of, one which never seemed to run dry. She loved Blake in the most romantic sense she could imagine; their love was gentle and compassionate, born of shared loss, mirrored pain, and mutual longing. Weiss… for Weiss her love was eager and earnest, tinged with a sort of awe that someone she held in such esteem would deign to love her back. Ruby had been crushed by the loss, crushed utterly and perhaps beyond repair.

She passed like a specter through the undergrowth, tracing unmarked routes along the forest floor until the dense trees opened into a small glade. Here a strip of earth was still scorched bare, a lasting reminder of where she and Weiss had met. Blake said the purity of the dust Weiss had used was responsible for how long the ground had remained barren, though each year the strip became narrower as nature continued to encroach. The autumn air was cool enough for Ruby’s breath to fog as she sat, leaning against a scarred and pitted tree by the strip of barren soil.

"Hey, Weiss."

A cool wind scattered drying leaves.

"I'm back."

This far out there was no noise from Beacon, only the quiet murmurs of a sleeping forest.

"It was a good year, I guess. Wish you could have been there. Good batch of first-years. Even Glynda likes them, and you know how she gets."

She shifted her weight slightly, crinkling fallen leaves and cracking dried twigs.

"Team JNPR visited for the opening ceremonies. They've really outdone themselves, you know? Best of the best, taking on suici- impossible missions and coming out of them all in one piece. Makes me wonder about our team, y’know? If things had been different… if you ha-”

She choked on the word, rubbed at the tears already welling in the corners of her eyes. Minutes passed in silence broken only by unsteady breath.

“Look at me, getting choked up already… If you were here you’d probably yell at me for being over-emotional, huh? I don’t think I’d mind, no matter how much you shouted.”

Her shoulders shook, hands balling into tight fists on her lap as the last remnants of her defenses came tumbling down.

“But you’re not coming back, are you Weiss? B-Blake and Yang always say you’ll be back some day, b-but I don’t _believe_ them anymore, Weiss! It-It’s been too long, and I just _hurt_ so ba-”

- _SNAP-_

Reflex is a powerful thing. Even from the depths of anguish, the height of vulnerability, the foreign sound of cracking wood brought a lifetime of training to bear in an instant. Crescent Rose was unsheathed before she turned her head, transforming before she stood, and in full swing when she realized that the source of the sound was not, in fact, a stray Beowulf. Ruby gasped in shock, and with a shift in the balance of her grip the razor edge of the scythe buried itself in an innocent tree trunk, rather than her visitor’s chest cavity.

" _Dust_ , I nearly- what are you doing out here? Curfew was three hours ago!" She swiped at her eyes as inconspicuously as she could. The intruder on her vigil was a bedraggled-looking woman, a few inches shorter than her, with rough-cut black hair casting shadows across her face. Ruby didn’t recognize her, though that could have just been a trick of the moonlight. _Probably a fourth-year student, she looks old enough._ Ruby swept past her, heading towards Beacon.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the dorms. Maybe I can sneak you in and you won’t get Glynda on your ass about breaking cur-”

“Ruby.”

Like a choir of angels, or a siren in the mists.

“It’s me.”

Like a lover’s whispered promise, or a devil’s whispered lie.

Ruby’s brow furrowed, her eyes screwed shut, and the name she spoke was hissed desperately through teeth clenched tight enough to crack enamel.

_“Weiss.”_

“I’m back, Ruby. I’m back.” Her voice was soft, tender, as though she feared an ill-spoken word could shatter the reunion neither had dared to imagine possible. In a way, she was right.

"No," Ruby mumbled, barely above her breath, "No, that's not..."

"Ruby?"

"That's not fair that's not _fair_ that's not-" A hand came to rest on her shoulder and she whirled, fear and doubt written heavy on her face. "That's not _fair!_ " her shout echoed across the trees, and Weiss jumped back, startled by the outburst.

"R-Ruby, what-"

"These _fucking_ nightmares!" She couldn't be real, she _couldn't be real_ because if ten years apart had taught Ruby one thing, it was that there was no poetry to her life, and _this,_ just the _idea_ that she would come back, just appear out of nowhere in Ruby's darkest moment, ten years _to the day_ after she had gone away and taken a chunk of Ruby's heart with her -- it was too much to believe. Her head dropped into her hands and the tears returned, wracking her frame.

"No, no Ruby... Ruby it's not a nightmare, ok?" Weiss reached out slowly, her brow creased with worry. "I'm here no-"

_"Get away from me!"_ Rose petals burst into suddenly churning air and Ruby was gone, leaving only a trail of gently falling petals, pale in the dim light.

"Oh, Ruby..."


	4. Unfamiliar Scars, Part 2

The colossal main doors to Beacon Academy were sealed when Weiss finally arrived, but the light and muted grumbling spilling from a side entrance gave away the path Ruby must have taken. She dashed toward it, slid a leg into the opening just as a slender hand swung it shut with surprising force. She cursed colorfully at the impact, and the door swung wide to reveal a scowling Glynda Goodwitch.

"Oh, _now_ who is i- _Ms. Schnee?_ "

Weiss withdrew the newly-bruised leg from the doorway, wincing, and gave her a half-hearted smile. "Hello, professor. Did Ruby come through here? I’d love to stay and catch up, but I really need to find her.”

“I- Wh- How-” She paused, spent a moment examining the ceiling, then huffed a sigh and spoke levelly. “Miss Rose rushed through here a few minutes ago, looking _rather_ distraught.” A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I suppose I should have known you were involved. She was headed to her room, in the staff lodgings. Third floor, east wing, hers is the fifth down on the right.”

Weiss thanked her abruptly and dashed off again, leaving her shaking her head bemusedly. It was a long way to Ruby’s room, but there was something comforting about being back in these halls that made it bearable. Finally she came to the right door. She had never had cause to visit the staff residences during her time as a student, and it seemed Beacon spared no expense in keeping its faculty well-housed. The door was dark, heavy-looking oak, and on it, several inches above Weiss’s eye level, was a brass plaque with RUBY ROSE etched into its surface. She knocked, gently at first, then harder when there was no response. Still nothing. Eventually, she eased open the door, slipping into the room tentatively and closing the door silently behind her.

It was a spacious room, but Ruby had a knack for filling whatever lodgings she might have. Every horizontal surface -- and most of the diagonal ones, upon closer inspection -- was covered in various bits and pieces from Ruby’s constant engineering experiments. Valves, nuts, bolts, vials of dust and dust crystals of every shape, color, and size, even the odd circuit board or transistor. Weiss imagined she had a system. No matter how chaotic Ruby’s actions seemed, their time together had taught her that there was always, always a reason for them.

Ruby herself was curled in bed, facing the room. Weiss crossed the room slowly, careful to avoid disturbing any of Ruby's little piles and experiments, and sat beside her on the edge of the bed. For a long time neither moved, neither spoke.

“Hey Weiss?”

“Yes, Ruby?”

“I don’t think this is a nightmare, anymore. I think I would have woken up by now if it were." Weiss hummed and brought a hand to run gently along Ruby's arm and shoulder. "I'm sorry for running, it's just... you were gone for so long, I couldn't..." she trailed off, her eyes shut tight. “... I don’t want to say I gave up on you but… after what he did to Myrtenaster it… got hard to imagine you coming back.”

Myrtenaster. Years of running and fighting had taught Weiss to tune out of most of her vulnerability, but the sight of her father, triumph writ large on his face as he cast her beloved blade into the furnace on public TV, had cut through her walls and left her reeling. He had melted her down, had the metal recast into the shape of their family crest. Now what was left of her sat on his desk, a reminder of the scrap of revenge he had claimed. Life on the run left no opportunity to replace her, if something so precious could even be replaced, and doing so would have required money, which she didn’t have, or skills like Ruby’s. She missed her weapon dearly.

“I tried to reforge her for you,” Ruby murmured, her tone a bit more hollow than Weiss liked, “I thought maybe… If you ever came back, it would be like you never lost her.”

_Like I never lost you_.

“And… Myrtenaster was always a part of you, too. Weapons are like that for us huntresses. I guess I thought having her around would…” she trailed off, bit her lower lip to stop it trembling, but Weiss could fill in the blank.

_Having her around would be like having a part of you back_.

Ruby gestured with her head to a gleaming pile, tucked in a corner beside her desk. Blades, hilts, guards, dust chambers… dozens of each, scattered and disconnected. All much like Myrtenaster, but… “I was just working from memory, and I could never quite… she was never perfect. No matter how hard I tried, she was never…”

Oh, Ruby. Words were coming hard to Weiss, a byproduct of years of solitude, save the occasional fight for her life or clipped conversation with a stranger. Ruby was struggling to accept that Weiss was really back, that this wasn’t something she’d wake up from, even as she assured her otherwise. A memory drifted to mind, distant but vivid.

Team RWBY had never had the chance to undertake many missions as fully-fledged huntresses, but those they had taken had been memorable. They had tended towards missions no one else wanted, ones that would ordinarily be undertaken by a veteran team, perhaps even two working in tandem. It was no secret that they were an unusually skilled group, and besides, they liked the challenge. One mission in particular, though… A town at the outskirts of Vale had simply dropped off the map one day. No warning, no distress signals, nothing. The whole town had simply gone dark, and team RWBY had been sent in to investigate.

Overrun didn’t begin to describe the scene they found upon arriving. _Something_ , and they had never found out what, as far as Weiss was aware, had drawn the Grimm to the town like vultures to a fresh carcass. Every building swarmed with the monsters, every scrap of ground teemed with snarling, writhing, hissing, biting _death._ Their pilot chose wisely to abort the mission until a larger group of huntresses could be brought in, but their escape was cut off by a flock of Nevermores, bursting through the roofs of a dozen mangled homes. They had gone down, and gone down hard, and evacuation was a long time coming. They had held their ground, though, and even managed to save the life of their pilot, who had broken several bones in the crash. None of them emerged unscathed. Convalescence had been long and painful, even with aura therapy to speed the process, and at the end each member of the team bore a host of fresh scars.

Between Weiss and Ruby, a sort of ritual had begun. When visions of flashing teeth and gleaming eyes filled the nights, when phantom aches darted across scarred flesh, they would lie close, naked and vulnerable, and trace the scars together. They would remember the pain, hold the memories close as they held each other, and with gentle fingertips assure one another that they had made it out, that they had returned to each other’s arms -- safe, if not quite whole.

Weiss stood, earning a look of confusion from Ruby, and crossed the room to her desk. She emptied her pockets onto a scrap of bare surface -- Blake’s scroll, a roll of lien held together with a rubber band, and the combat knife and brass knuckles which had kept her alive in Myrtenaster’s stead. She unzipped the ragged jacket, let it slip from her shoulders to the floor.

“Weiss, wh-” Ruby’s voice caught when Weiss lifted away her shirt, revealing the host of unfamiliar marks that crisscrossed her back and sides. Ruby’s silence, coupled with the soft rustle of fabric being shed, hinted that she had remembered as well. When she had undressed, Weiss returned to the bed and slid in beside her girlfriend, scooting close enough to press her forehead against Ruby’s. She wasn’t the only one with new scars.

“Solo hunting, of all things…” Weiss spoke in a soft murmur, just loud enough for her partner to hear, as her hands came to Ruby’s face and began to trace feather touches along the marks.

“I couldn’t bring myself to join another team, even just substituting, so… that just leaves solo.” Ruby mirrored her, ghosting fingers along her skin. The touch was intimate much more than it was erotic, but still Weiss could only just suppress a shiver. “You really had it rough, huh? So many scars, Weiss…”

“But I made it back,” Weiss reassured her, “I made it back.”

They lapsed into silence, fingertips memorizing the lines and patches of skin irrevocably changed, where life had cut and bit and burned them into new forms, forged them into something new.

“You’re staying, right Weiss?” Weiss smiled, wrapped her arms around Ruby, and drew her closer still, pressed to her chest.

“I’m staying, Ruby. For good.” She felt Ruby smile too, bright and earnest for the first time in a long, long time. Soon, contented warmth lulled them both to dreamless slumber, safe in each other’s arms.


	5. Tired Eyes

_Jab, jab, cross, jab to close distance, uppercut_

Ruby wasn't answering her scroll. Frustrating as it might be, that was kind of how it went on the anniversary. She’d be out all night in the Emerald Forest, get back around seven AM, and crash until sunset. Still, Yang couldn’t help but feel she’d be remiss in her sisterly duties if there weren’t at least a _few_ missed calls on Ruby’s scroll when she came to.

_Jab, jab, elbow with the back arm, knee with the back leg_

Blake wasn’t answering either. _That_ got under her skin. It wasn’t uncommon for Ruby to go dark for a few hours, and Yang was little better if she got into the sauce on a night when she wasn’t working, but Blake was always on call. Hell, Yang had even called them close to four in the morning, that most dreaded of hours, and they had picked up on the first ring. They hadn't even sounded _tired_. If Yang weren't their favorite cuddle partner, she would wonder if Blake slept at all.

_Feint roundhouse low, roundhouse middle, crescent high, pivot to drive heel into solar plexus, drop to defensive stance in case of counter_

So for them to not answer _all morning_ was unheard of. It made her worry, what with the anniversary and all. Blake always seemed to be on top of their emotions, but Yang had been one of the first to see the cracks in that façade, and by now she knew them all by heart. If they were refusing to answer Yang's calls, something was seriously wrong.

And of course it had Yang doing more fretting than working out. She didn’t _mean_ to dote on her team, it just came naturally. Sighing, she resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t going to get a damn thing done until she knew what was up with Blake and Ruby. Well, Blake anyway. She could guess what Ruby was up to easily enough. She resolved to give Blake one last call, and if they didn’t pick up she would just have to go track them down. She retrieved her scroll from its pocket on the side of her gym bag and tapped Blake’s icon. They had _better_ pick up this ti-

A chime sounded from behind her. That was Blake’s scroll, alright. The only person she knew who had never bothered to change the default ringtone, even for their girlfriends. She turned towards the sound, the heavy braid she wrangled her mane into for workouts swinging with the motion.

“Blake, where have you-” _Her._ Different hair, different clothes, different posture, but there was no doubt, it was _her_. Yang had long ago buried the fire that raged through her at even the _thought_ of the woman standing in the doorway, but it could never be smothered completely. When Weiss left, Blake had been heartbroken, Ruby had been crushed, but Yang… Yang had been livid. That she would just _leave_ , after all they had been through together, all that they had promised each other… fury didn’t begin to describe it.

“Yang, I-”

_“You.”_ A growl rumbled through Yang's chest as she stormed toward Weiss, her vision cast in crimson. Judging by the way her expression turned fearful and her shoulders tensed, Yang wasn't just seeing things.

“Yang, don-"

Weiss was horizontal in the air by the time the small of her back hit a heavy bag across the gym, hard enough to set it swinging.

"How _dare_ you?" Yang snarled, advancing on her as she scrambled to her feet, "How _dare_ you fucking _waltz_ in here after a _decade?"_

“Yang, _please_ , I don’t want to-”

_-CRACK-_

Weiss dropped like a stone, and Yang’s eyes went wide, flashing back to lilac lit with worry even as she retracted her fist. There was a subtle difference between the feeling of striking aura and striking flesh, a difference Yang was well acquainted with. _She didn’t have her aura up_. Worse, she had specifically lowered it to take the full brunt of the blow.

“Weiss? _Dust,_ Weiss, what were you thinking?” Yang knew well that she hit hard enough to send most people reeling even _with_ huntress-level aura to pad the blow. Unshielded, she could have easily fractured Weiss’s jaw, or concussed her, or fractured her orbital or something, and it _felt_ like she hit her full on the cheek but it happened so fast and what if she had knocked a tooth loose? What if she had seriously hur-

Weiss groaned from the floor, and Yang dropped to her knees, rolling Weiss carefully into her lap to survey the damage. Her nose was red and bloodied, and an angry bruise was already blossoming below her left eye.

"I deserved that, I think." Weiss sounded dazed, mumbling as she wiped at the trickle of blood approaching her chin.

"Why the hell'd you drop your aura, Weiss? I could have snapped your neck!" Their eyes met, and Yang felt her heart break. She looked so _tired_. There had always been a spark of defiance in those frosty eyes, a hint of rebellion perpetually stoked by a life lived on her father’s rails. It was gone now, worn away to nothing but exhaustion.

“Because I’m tired, Yang.” Almost on reflex, she curled a bit closer to Yang’s chest, let her eyes droop shut. “I know it’s not fair of me to drop back in on your lives like this, but… I’ve spent the last ten years fighting. I’m done, Yang. I’m done. I can’t… I can’t do it anymore.” Yang sighed, a bit more dramatically than she felt. She sat quietly for a while, holding Weiss tenderly and stroking her back.

“You know, I had this whole angry rant planned out for when you came back. It was gonna be pretty impressive." She hooked an arm under Weiss's legs, picking her up and standing with a soft grunt. "I guess this is a good enough excuse to skip cardio day. Come on, let's get you cleaned up."


	6. Tired Eyes, Part 2

Weiss flinched when Yang pressed the ice pack to her eye.

"I know it's probably tender, but your aura will heal it quicker if you keep the swelling down. Hold that in place, okay?" Weiss took the pack, inclining her head as Yang wiped away the drying blood with a warm cloth. When she finished, Weiss's gaze dropped again to Yang's chest, where a ragged scar discolored the copper skin. It began low on her right side, just below the ribs, disappeared beneath her sports bra, and tapered away at the opposite shoulder.

"Weiss?"

The memory of what had put it there was still altogether too vivid. The shadowy figure darting out from an alley, the flash of metal under the streetlight... the way the wound that split her lover’s chest had frothed black, even before blood could spring forth.

"Weiss? You in there?"

The figure had rounded on her and struck, but rage had eclipsed the pain and muffled the crunch of fracturing bone. She had thrust wildly with Myrtenaster, and apparently hit something important; the figure had limped away into the shadows, muttering curses.

"Weiss, are you okay? Hey, come on, look at me."

Yang under the streetlight, comprehension slowly dawning as she lifted a black-red hand from her chest to inspect it and she looked at Weiss and she tried to talk but she just coughed up something _black like tar_ and fell to her knees and she looked so _scared_ and _helpless_ an-

_"Weiss!"_

Yang's shout dragged her from the flashback with a gasp. "Easy, try to steady your breathing." Yang's hands came to rest on her own, rubbing gently at the tension there until tight fists unfurled. Her nails had already cut crescent marks into the palm of her free hand.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It was the scar, right?"

"I... yeah."

Yang chewed her lip for a moment, then sat beside her, bringing a densely muscled arm to rub gentle circles on her back. For all the strength bound up in Yang’s bones, she could be so tender, so loving with her touch.

“Weiss, what happened that night was one of the most terrifying things that’s ever happened to me, but not because of this," she said, indicating the scar. "I could _feel_ the poison getting to me, and I could barely move. All I could think was, what if something happened to you because of that? What if you _died_ and all I could do was lie around bleeding?” Yang shuddered at the memory. “Do you get what I mean, Weiss? _Nothing_ scares me more than the thought of something happening to you because I _wasn’t there_. I just… I was so scared.”

She sniffed and scrubbed at her eyes with a frustrated noise. “You… you were the hardest for me to love, y’know that? Nothing really changed between me and Ruby; I’ve loved her since she was born, and falling in love with Blake was like falling off a cliff.” She chuckled, a short bark choked by emotion. “Nothing could have been easier. But _you._ At first I just wondered what Blake and Ruby even _saw_ in you. You were stuck-up, arrogant, selfish… and then there was that thing after spring break.”

Weiss remembered that little episode vividly. She had spent the week of their second spring break from Beacon with her family, as usual. Whenever they had a break of more than a couple days, she would be shipped off to Schnee manor, in keeping with her father’s expectations. At the time, she had already been dating Ruby for three months, and Blake for nearly a year. The week had been hell, if hell could be so cold. She had diligently avoided the subject of her… relationships, and yet still the weight of suspicion grew with every sidelong glance from her father. By the time she made it back to Beacon, she was so thoroughly wound up that she had spent three days on autopilot, responding to questions with monotone hums and murmurs, barely sleeping, barely eating…

“That kinda clued me in to what being around him did to you. That was when I started to see what you were like behind the money, I guess. It wasn’t… _easy_ for me to like you. It took time, it took effort, but… when I fell for you, I fell _hard_. Losing you was like losing an arm. I… I’m rambling, I know, but there’s just so much I never got to _say._ This was all gonna be in that rant I mentioned earlier, but you had to go and ruin that, huh?” Weiss couldn’t help but grin at that. Oops.

“It’s not too late, you know; you’ve got a captive audience until I’m done icing my eye.”

“Yeah, I’d rather not think about you being _any_ kind of captive, if that’s alright.” Yang shuddered. “Been trying to avoid thinking about that for a decade. And nah, something about nearly breaking your nose took the wind out of my sails."

"I guess," a smirk began to form on Weiss's face. "A punch is worth a thousand words? Eh?"

"Hey, lame jokes are _my_ job." Yang tried to sound affronted, but the effect was lost to her warm smile.

"Well, you've been sorely remiss, then. _Someone_ has to pick up the slack."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll catch up later. Oh, by the way… have you been to see the others yet? I mean, you have Blake’s scroll so I _assume_ you found them, but did you visit Ruby?” Weiss nodded affirmatively, then cocked an eyebrow at the grin that began to spread across her girlfriend’s face.

“What’s _that_ look for?”

“Oh, relax. I’m just putting some plans together. The others might have told you, but me and Nora opened up a bar downtown a few years back. Nothing particularly profitable, but it makes a nice place to hang out. I was thinking I could call up JNPR, CFVY, maybe a few others, see if they wanted to have a welcome-back party there tonight? If you’re up for it, I mean.”

Truth be told, Weiss hadn’t even _thought_ about meeting up with the rest of her friends from Beacon. Planning and fretting about the reunion with her team had all but monopolized her thoughts for the last week.

“That… sounds great, actually. It’ll be good to see everyone again.”

Yang beamed. “Then it’s a date.” She leaned in and took Weiss’s chin in one calloused hand, bringing their lips to meet for a moment. “And after that… I think we’re gonna have to get you used to living with us again. Sound good?” Yang’s grin took on a playful edge Weiss was all too familiar with, and they kissed again with renewed hunger.

Yeah, Weiss thought. That did sound good.


	7. Home Again

Once the reunion bruise had faded from Weiss's cheek, the remainder of the afternoon was dedicated -- at Yang's insistence -- to a brief list of errands. A visit to Yang's preferred hairdresser had been shot down _(There's hardly any of it_ there _, Yang, what's the point?)_ in favor of stocking up on snacks and liquor for the party that night and tracking down a stock of makeup for Weiss. From there the two stopped to enjoy a lunch Yang termed ‘hearty,’ though Weiss preferred ‘colossal.’

They wandered downtown Vale together for hours, hand in hand. Others had often pointed out the whole ‘fire and ice’ thing to Weiss and Yang, and it was true, in a number of ways. The mistake many made, when wondering how they could stand each other, was in only seeing the extremes of their characteristic elements. Yang could rage like a wildfire, true, and Weiss could be frigid and unmoving as any glacier, but at times like this, they showed a very different side. Yang would smoulder, burn low and warm like glowing coals, and Weiss loved little better than to melt into her.

It was just past sunset when their meandering led them to a plain brick storefront, devoid of windows. Above the door was an elaborately carved wooden sign which read, in heavy lettering, _The Hammer and Gauntlet_. Yang gently tugged Weiss to the door, beaming proudly.

“Here we are! Doesn’t look like much from outside, I know, but I think you’ll like it.” She pulled the heavy door open, ushering Weiss inside. “Good crowd of regulars, too,” she added in a light singsong tone. Weiss could practically _hear_ the grin on her face.

She was right about the bar, though. It was small enough to be cozy, but still had room for a few tables, a couch, and a pair of armchairs beside a large hearth. The bar itself shared the same dark, glossy wood as the rest of the decor, and lent the whole room a homey closeness, with just a touch of refinement. Looking closer, Weiss could see hints of a certain faunus’s input on the design, as well. One wall was lined with bookshelves, and others held small alcoves, each with their own overhead light.

Any further inspection was cut off by the sight of a diminutive redhead vaulting the bar itself and embracing Weiss in a flying tackle that would have left her on the floor, had Yang not been just behind her. A torrent of what were probably words washed over her, though she could just make out a “Weiss,” a “glad you’re back,” and maybe a “what happened to your hair,” though that last one could have been anything, really.

“Come on, Nora, let the poor girl breathe,” Pyrrha chuckled as she pried them apart, “It _is_ good to see you, Weiss. Nora, _let go_.”

Once she had been extricated from Nora’s vice grip and given Pyrrha a much more sedate hug, Weiss cast another glance around the room. Two nearly-identical shocks of blonde hair at the bar could only be Jaune and Sun, and Ren, Yatsuhashi, Velvet and Blake were gathered around a table, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Sun waved with an ear-to-ear smile, and Weiss headed over to sit beside the pair. Jaune seemed to have bulked up considerably over the years, and Sun's already glowing tan had somehow managed to intensify.

"Glad to have you back among the living, girl!" Sun clapped a hand to her back, and Jaune nodded with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"I can't _begin_ to tell you how good it is to... be..." Weiss trailed off, her brow creasing slightly, when she noticed the way Sun's tail had wrapped itself around Jaune's leg. "Are... are you two...?"

"Dating? Hell _yeah_ we're dating." Sun's grin could have lit the room on its own. "Oh! Oh oh oh, Jaune, can I tell the story?"

"Sun, that is the most _embarrassing_ story! Why do you always want to-"

"Oh come on, it's not _that_ bad!"

"Yes it absolutely is, and you know it."

"Look, if I don't tell her Nora will and you know she does the voices and everything."

"... Point conceded. Fine, you can tell the story."

* * *

'The Story,' as it turned out, was about how the two got together in the first place. As Sun enthusiastically explained, it had been several years ago, just after team JNPR had returned from a hunt. Sun had been visiting Neptune _(Oh, he teaches Grimm studies at Beacon now, I don't know if Ruby told you)_ , and decided to say hi when they arrived. He had noticed two things immediately: Pyrrha and Nora were practically attached at the hip, and Jaune looked like shit.

Sun had made a wealth of assumptions over the span of about 30 seconds, such as:

1\. Nora and Pyrrha had (finally) hooked up.

2\. Jaune had been pining after Pyrrha, and was heartbroken.

3\. The reason he looked like shit was because he was upset about it.

4\. He would want Sun to cheer him up.

As it turned out, only the first of these was actually true. The _actual_ reason Jaune looked like shit was because even after years as a hunter he still got terribly airsick, and their flight had just come in from the far end of Mistral, about seven hours east. Sun had rushed off to comfort his assumedly heartbroken friend, and had instead found out just how bad that motion sickness could be.

* * *

"Anyway, that's why I don't wear my shirt open anymore. But he felt bad enough to agree to buying me dinner, and the rest is history!"

Behind him, Jaune had his head in his hands. "For some reason, he loves telling people about how we're dating because I hurled on his abs."

Sun's thousand-watt grin was back. "It's cute! Though I guess I can't really judge; I got out of the whole hunter thing after my team split up. These days I mostly help out Blake and Velvet with their faunus rights thing."

A conversation with Blake and Velvet informed Weiss that ‘their faunus rights thing’ did in fact have a name. They called it the Faunus Rights Reclamation Movement, or FRRM for short.

"It's pronounced 'forum.' Ozpin's naming conventions kinda rubbed off on us, I guess." Velvet's voice was as small as ever, but there was a glint of pride dancing in her eyes. "Starting a social movement isn't a quick process, but we're picking up steam."

"The White Fang hasn't done us any good in a long time, and people are looking for a plan B," Blake added, "Something like half of our volunteers are ex-Fang."

Pyrrha and Nora had apparently been going steady for several years, and while Nora pitched in running the bar, Pyrrha had begun giving one-on-one combat master classes.

“I got out of the tournament circuit a couple years after we graduated from Beacon. I suppose I just got tired of the constant travel, and dealing with sponsors was never enjoyable,” Pyrrha mused with a slight wince, “Besides, once you’ve hit a certain point… this sounds so boastful, but… there’s no real challenge to it anymore.”

Weiss cocked her head. “I thought the whole point of tournaments was to present a challenge?”

“It is, but… most of the people who get into tournament fighting are in it for either money or glory. For me it was always about the craft, if that makes sense. I never fought for the prize money or sponsorships, I just wanted to be a better fighter. It’s a difference in motivation. If you’re just there to be better than the person you’re fighting, why bother to keep trying once you’re there?”

Weiss nodded. “I think I see what you mean. Most people just want to be better than their opponent, but you want to be better than _yourself_. There’s no end goal, just constant improvement.”

“Exactly. I really enjoyed the time I spent tutoring Jaune while we were at Beacon-”

“Not that he learned much from it,” Nora cut in with a teasing tone.

“Nora! That’s very rude.” Pyrrha twiddled her thumbs. “But… not entirely inaccurate. Jaune never quite figured out swordfighting. Not that he’s useless in a fight, but his strengths are… elsewhere.”

“What she means is that he’s got more aura than the rest of us combined, and his semblance is like… it…” Nora trailed off, trying desperately to find the words.

“It causes a sort of... tunnel vision in his targets. Oobleck called it ‘enforced inattentional blindness,’ I think. To Grimm it makes the rest of us all but invisible.”

“So we just wail on them while they beat uselessly against his yard-thick aura! It’s a good system.”

“It really is. Anyway, regardless of how well it worked, I enjoyed the one-on-one instruction, so I’ve begun doing personal lessons with particularly gifted students. Most come from Beacon, but I’ve had a few from Haven and a some of the other academies.”

Ren and Yatsuhashi, she learned, were celebrating their fifth year married in a week. They planned to have a picnic.

Before long, Coco arrived with Fox in tow. She strode to their table with her characteristic saunter, planted a kiss on Velvet’s lips -- muffling the startled ‘meep’ that escaped her -- and tossed a bag across to Weiss.

“Sorry I’m late, hun.” she turned to Weiss, letting a hint of a smirk cross her lips. “Bet you were wondering why Yang didn’t get you any clothes, huh?”

She had had her suspicions, particularly when Yang had informed her that Coco would be late, and a quick look inside the bag confirmed them. “Not anymore, I’m not.”

Coco shot her a wink. “Like I’d trust Yang with dressing you on your first day back. There’s more where that came from, by the way; me and Fox stocked a wardrobe for you as a welcome back gift.”

It occurred to Weiss that ten years ago, those words would hardly have elicited more from her than an obligatory thank-you, and now they had her so overcome that she could barely choke out the words. She embraced Coco tightly before excusing herself to change, swiping at her eyes. The years of hardship had gradually built a numbness into her, a deadened barrier to emotion which had served as her staunch guardian during the hardest times. On nights spent in the wilderness beyond the kingdoms, nestled in rocky caverns and mossy hollows wet with dew, that wall had kept her going, excised the need for anything but survival.

Oh, how her defenses had crumbled. It hadn’t happened instantly, but now here she was, getting weepy over new clothes. The past two days had been a whirlwind of emotion, from Blake’s joy, to Ruby’s sorrow, to Yang’s fury. It was starting to sink in, she supposed. She was back, finally back among the people she loved, and who loved her too. _Dust,_ she had needed this. Needed _them_ , so bad the relief threatened to leave her shaking.

The outfit Coco had provided for the evening was simple, but not inelegant. A black, sleeveless overshirt, a long-sleeved V-neck in a contrasting white, and a pair of skin-tight black jeans which, by some miracle, fit perfectly. The whole outfit did, in fact. How had Coco figured out her measurements when _she_ didn't even know them?

She checked herself over in the bathroom mirror one last time before rejoining the party. Ruby had arrived, and was sharing the spacious couch with her sister and Blake. Weiss took a moment, leaning against the wall, to simply drink in the sight of them all together, in the flesh. They had all changed, certainly, but something in the way the firelight danced across her team -- _her family_ \-- made those changes particularly striking.

Yang’s wild mane was bound up in a braid thicker than Weiss’s bicep, similar though more intricate than the one she had worn it in earlier. Hunting had tanned her already bronze skin, and she had bulked up considerably, doubtless from her brutal exercise regimen as much as from years spent fighting Grimm. In the flickering light, every shift of chiseled muscle under her weathered skin was highlighted, and the sight was enough to bring a dryness to Weiss’s throat. Yang’s earlier words about ‘getting her used to living with them again’ leapt to mind.

Blake, she noticed, had likely taken to binding their chest, and their hair had been trimmed to frame their jaw with its slight wave. Weiss made a mental note to have a more in-depth conversation with them at some point regarding what Yang had referred to as their ‘gender thing.’ The most noticeable difference, however, was in how they moved. As Blake stood to strike up a conversation with Velvet and Coco, Weiss noticed that the edge of tension that had stuck with them during their time at Beacon had vanished over the years. Back then there had always been a slight scurry to their movements, as though they were ready to flee at a moment’s notice. Now that nervousness was gone, and even their slightest movements were preternaturally fluid and dextrous -- Weiss forced down the urge to describe them as catlike -- and the way they walked was nearly mesmerizing.

Ruby had changed as well, perhaps the most dramatically given her relative youth. Hunting had tanned and weathered her skin just as it had Yang’s, though not as dramatically. It was just enough to highlight the scars that ribboned her arms and legs, even her neck and face. Weiss imagined that between the scars and Crescent Rose, she had scared the hell out of more than a few first-year combat students. Her movements had changed as well; in her younger years she had often seemed uncertain, even gangly as she grew into herself, but now her stride carried an unmistakable air of purpose and authority.

* * *

A hand came to rest on Weiss’s shoulder, and her heart leapt into her throat. She whirled on the spot, hands dropping into her pockets -- _she didn’t have her weapons where were her weapons_ \-- and her eyes flashing fury at the green-haired woman cocking an eyebrow at her. Blake materialized behind Weiss, sudden enough to shock her already frayed nerves, and stepped between the two.

“Easy, Weiss, she’s okay.” They shot an irritated look over their shoulder. “Emerald, did you _have_ to startle her? You know full well what she just got back from.”

“Hah! Yeah, I guess that was kinda tactless of me. Hey, Weiss. Long time no see.” She cocked her hip with a grin.

 _“Emerald?_ As in _Emerald Sustrai_ , who tried to kill us on three separate occasions?” Weiss shot another dirty look at her over Blake’s shoulder.

“I know it’s hard to believe, trust me, but we settled accounts a few years back. Honestly, we probably never would have managed to catch Cinder Fall without her help. With a little nudging from Ozpin she got a full pardon."

Emerald wiggled a hand noncommittally. "Eh, full-ish; I still can't go to Atlas. Never did get that thank-you note from ol' Ironwood."

"Yeah, after that thing with Penny is it really that surprising?" Blake grinned, a bit more mischievously than usual. "Oh, we're kind of talking over you, huh Weiss?"

Weiss gave them a helpless look. "Kind of?"

"Yeah, sorry." They scratched the back of their head, looking sheepish. "Three years back we found out Ironwood had an override built into Penny's AI that would let him monitor everything she did, even take direct control of her. Ruby spotted it, actually. We decided to do something about it, so-"

"So little old _me_ snuck into Atlas, paid a little B &E visit to the good general's office, and disabled the override. But before I get any more drunk or distracted, I have a little present for you and Rubbles." She slipped past Blake and Weiss, swiped Jaune's drink, and plopped onto the couch beside Ruby. Weiss followed, still a bit suspicious and determined to figure out what she meant.

“Em? What’s up?” Ruby looked as confused as Weiss felt.

From somewhere on her person _(No, seriously, where were you hiding that? There’s no_ way _that outfit has pockets)_ Emerald, smirking proudly, produced a metal trophy in the shape of the Schnee family crest. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Is that…?” Weiss murmured, her eyes slowly widening.

“Your baby? Sure enough. After your pops had her melted down I figured out what I wanted to get you as a welcome home present. Lifted it from his desk about a week later. The _funny_ part was watching him try to pretend it wasn’t gone when the reporters came around.” She passed Myrtenaster’s remains to Ruby, who took them reverently. “While I was in the area I managed to track down the original schematics for her. There’s a memory drive taped to the back there.”

Oops, the tears were back. Weiss blinked them away desperately, trying to keep the emotion from her voice. “Then… Ruby, with those can you…?”

“Yes!” Ruby wrapped Emerald in a crushing hug, heedless of the older woman’s pleas for mercy. “I can finally…” She made no effort to stop the tears as she beamed up at Weiss. “I can finally bring her back.” Those words were enough for Weiss to let bygones be bygones, and she wrapped them both in a hug that had Emerald patting desperately at her back. She wasn’t really the huggy type.

* * *

The rest of the night was a blur, though Nora’s insistence that Weiss try one of each of her lovers’s favorite drinks (A black Atlesian for Blake, strawberry daquiri for Ruby, and a Patch island iced tea for Yang) may have been responsible for that. Nora could be deviously heavy-handed with her mixing. Weiss was regaled with many a story from the years she had missed, from Coco and Velvet’s wedding (Cardin Winchester had tried to crash it, Coco had thrown him bodily onto the roof of a house down the street) to the time Jaune got stepped on by a Goliath (twice, actually, by the same Goliath), to the time Pyrrha drank Yang under the table (though Yang vehemently insisted that having her girlfriend mix the drinks was cheating).

By the time they all said their goodbyes -- or see-you-laters, as Weiss was careful to ensure -- her cheeks ached from smiling, brighter and more often than she perhaps ever had in her life. Yang was all too happy to let the task of cleaning up fall to ‘future Yang,’ as she put it, despite Blake and Ruby’s chiding. For her part, Weiss was content to simply lie with her head in Blake’s lap on the drive back to their home. A thought struck her, though, and she rolled to meet their amber eyes.

“Hey Blake?”

“Yeah, Weiss?”

“I don’t… I don’t think I want my last name to be Schnee, anymore.”

Blake chuckled softly. “I don’t blame you. It hasn’t treated you too well.”

“I think I…” she paused for a moment, wanting to make sure she got the words right. This was important. “I think I want it to be Belladonna.” A contemplative silence settled over the car.

“Are… Weiss, are you sure? I mean-”

“I’m sure, Blake. This isn’t…” she trailed off for a moment, searching for the rest of her sentence. “This isn’t something I’m just now thinking about, okay? I… I really… I really want to do this. It… well, for one thing, ‘Weiss Rose-Belladonna-Xiao-Long’ doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but… had I not fallen for you like I did, I don’t… think I would be the person I am today. I don’t think I ever would have had the courage to stand against my father if it weren’t for you. I… If you’re okay with it, I…”

There was a glistening shine to Blake’s eyes, lit by passing streetlights. “Weiss… I would love nothing better.” They leaned down, lifting Weiss’s head just enough for their lips to meet tenderly. In the warmth of the kiss Weiss felt her heart thrum gently -- and though she couldn’t know it, the feeling was shared by each of her lovers -- with hope for the future, with love newly rekindled, and with pure joy, knowing they were together again, where they were meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! I may revisit this AU at some point; I feel like there are a lot of stories left to tell in it.


End file.
